


The Four of Us

by Ari_the_Dodecahedron



Series: Self-Evident [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Political RPF - US 19th c.
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Autistic Character, Autistic Jefferson, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Lafayette, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Lafayette, autistic hamilton, which is more historically based than musically based
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2018-05-24 05:25:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6142896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ari_the_Dodecahedron/pseuds/Ari_the_Dodecahedron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A non-stop freelance writer, a civil rights activist, a textiles major, and a French-noble-turned-foreign-exchange-student walk into a bar. The rest, as they say, is history.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Non-Stop

**Author's Note:**

> First time I've posted on AO3, so I apologize if the formatting gets strange.  
> (Genderfluid autistic history buff: habquchdu.tumblr.com)

"How long? I've got a minimum of two articles due tomorrow and a paper to write for Washington's class Friday," Alexander mutters as Lafayette pulls him along.

"Only a little while,  _mon ami_. Then you may continue writing," they respond. "I should hope you have the pieces nearly complete."

John Laurens, lagging behind with Herc, laughs aloud. "There's a reason he writes like he's running out of time, Laf.  _He is_." Alexander shoots him a look, getting hit in the face with a handful of snow from Herc as John doubles over, laughing.

"You're lucky I like you guys," Alexander shoots back. "Otherwise you'd be  _en grande difficulté_." Laf pulls him close for the remark, reminding him that not everyone present was fluent in French. 

"Anyways, only a few more blocks to the park. You want to run, Alex?" Laf asks, a smile beginning to form on their lips.

"No. It's not good right now. Just no," Alexander insists when they start to speak. Lafayette notices his eyes are nearly closed and taps his arm. "Thanks," Alexander intones as he grasps their hand tightly.

"Oh, that's right. Side street?" John asks, suddenly aware of where the group is. Alexander nods sharply. "Bad memories," Laurens continues for the benefit of the others. "Foster family down that way wasn't the best."

"Fair enough," Herc says. "Ten more steps until you're entirely out of view of any houses on the street, Alex."

The four of them count together until, upon reaching ten, Alexander bursts into a run. John joins him without hesitation, reveling in the cold air against his face. When they finally stop in the park, John hugs the other man as tight as he can.

"We're learning, Alex. How are we doing so far?"

" _Magnifice_ ," he responds, burying his face in John's sweater. "I've never had a group of friends before."

"You make us proud, Alex. You bring in a little money with the writing and you've got a big heart to go along with it. Laf's got enough money, and they let us stay in their apartment without paying rent. They love you, that's for sure."

"The feeling's mutual. I love every one of you. I just want to pull my weight and have a shot at a normal life." Alexander slips out of John's grip, wringing his hands and bouncing on his toes as Herc and Laf approach. "But I'm not exactly normal, and neither are any of you."

"Is there a problem with that?" Laf asks, not expecting a response as their boyfriend's thoughts speed up and he looks off into the distance. "Alex, is that a story idea?" 

"Oh, yeah, sorry. I'm going to head back and you guys don't have to worry about me, because this feels like I'll have five hundred words in ten minutes flat. Each of those articles nets me thirty bucks, and I have plenty of ideas, so I'll get groceries this weekend. And I'm going the long way back, becuase it's thirty-eight degrees, I have energy, and I am not walking past that street again tonight." He backs away, about to turn around and make his way home.

"Hey, Alex?" Herc calls after him. The man stops, head down but clearly listening. "You and I are picking scarf yarn tomorrow, don't forget. And Laf's paying for that."

Alexander Hamilton laughs aloud as he makes his way back to the apartment to rise to the occasion of friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> En grande difficulté: in big trouble (French)  
> Magnifice: magnificent, wonderful (Latin)
> 
> ...I should probably warn you guys now that I'm on par with Tolkien when it comes to linguistic weirdness...


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Yeah. Long time, no see. I had a bunch typed up already. Just never posted. So... here they are.

“What day is it?” Laurens groans as Alexander, already dressed in a polo and jeans, rips open the curtains in their bedroom, sending early morning sunlight splaying across the floor.

  
“Day after yesterday.” John rolls his eyes. He should have known that he wouldn’t get more than a few hours of sleep after last night’s party. Alexander refuses to rise any later than six thirty and goes to bed by eleven without fail, a notion which Herc’s taught the others to respect.

“I have a paper to start. May I eat first?” Alexander queries, a relic from his days as a foster kid.

“You may, Alex,” John responds, knowing that a nod isn’t enough to get a few minutes more of peace and quiet. “Waffles or eggs?”

“Waffles. I can do waffles,” Alexander says, mostly to himself. John puts his pillow over his face to block out the light as the man exits, fidgeting with his collar.

The peace doesn’t last long. “ _Mon ami_? Are you awake yet?”

“What do you expect?” John mutters, turning toward the wall. “Alex is up. The world’s too bright for sleep.” Lafayette, hair up and clearly masculine, laughs at the comment, stealing John’s pillow.

“He got dressed before he woke you, John. It’s _sept heures moins cinq_.”

“English?”

“Almost seven. I’m shocked you weren’t awoken at the break of day as always. Alex must have heard you come in late.”

“You know him. He’s too light a sleeper not to notice.”

Lafayette nods his agreement before sitting down on the bed. “Coffee? Extra sugar.”

“Laf, you are the best.” As he gulps down the steaming liquid, a thought occurs to him. “Wait a minute. This sugar--who harvested it?”

“Oh, no. Not this early, _mon ami_.”

“Are their practices sustainable? What are living conditions like for the workers? Whose job is it to refine the sugar to the white stuff we actually use?” John’s activism landed him connections last year with some of the migrant workers whose plight was first revealed decades ago by Cesar Chavez and other civil rights leaders, and he refuses to buy -- or eat -- many unsustainably grown and harvested foods.

“John, calm down. It’s too early in the morning for _une crise existentielle_.” Lafayette bends over, laying his forehead against the younger man’s. “Now, I do believe you have this afternoon’s midterms to study for.”

“Oh, _shit_.” John springs to his feet, spilling the rest of his coffee in the process. So that’s what he had forgotten about when he went off to von Steuben’s pantsless party the night before.

(Well, it had been worth it.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A snippet. But a good snippet.

_So many choices_ , Alexander thinks, shaking his head. _What’s the difference between them?_

Hercules leans over. “Reach out for them first, Alex. Yarn can be made from a variety of materials, and the most important thing in knitting a scarf is finding something that won’t bug your skin but will keep you warm.”

Alex nods, running his fingertips across the yarns in front of him. He smiles, letting his eyes relax as he comes to a selection of very soft yarn, probably intended for someone’s grandmother to knit a baby blanket. “One of these,” he murmurs, already in sensory bliss.

“What color, then?”

“Does it matter?”

Herc sighs. “Yes, Alex. I want two colors, that way I can make a scarf which you can recognize how to tie. They need to be contrasting, but if they hurt your eyes, I already know you won’t wear the scarf.”

Alexander nods cautiously. He focuses his eyes, picking a pale yellow and maroon.

“Gryffindor?”

“Yeah. It’s fitting, I’d say. Takes a bit of courage to survive.”

“True. But Laf will absolutely scream about it.”

“Why?” Alex asks, confused.

“They’re already bugging you about being their little lion, aren’t they?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a side story; plenty of new characters, still very much the same universe.

Alexander Hamilton is not ready for the first student government meeting after a three month break.

As always, James Madison is scribbling all relevant notes; junior class president John Adams is texting his girlfriend, Abigail, who made it into Boston University; and military history buff Henry Knox is picking a fight with pre-law major Eddie Randolph. Alexander is not, however, expecting the new participant sitting _in his seat_ when he walks into the room.

“Move,” he mutters, throwing his bag down next to the chair and rocking on his heels.

The boy in his spot freezes, eyes flickering across the table to Madison, who is already halfway to standing. “Alex, this is Thomas Jefferson. He transferred from the University of Virginia over the summer. He’s got a double major in industrial engineering and architecture, along with a poli sci minor. I met him over the summer, and I have the feeling you’ll get along with him pretty well.” Alex picks up on the language, realizing there’s probably more to the pair’s relationship than he’s seen thus far.

“Good to know. Mr. Jefferson? Alexander Hamilton,” he responds, offering his hand.

Thomas shakes his head, crumpling a piece of paper between his hands as he begins to stand up. “Sorry, not having the best day. I’ll get going.”

“No! Please, stay. I just need to be able to spin if I’m going to sit for more than two minutes.”

“So do I.”

"I _need_ it, though.”

“As I said, so do -- ow!” Thomas twists his hand, looking at it intently. “Ugh. Papercut.”

Alex’s eyes dash back up to the other’s face. “Oh,” he breathes. He bends down, unhooking a paracord ball from his backpack. “This is a bit safer,” he mutters, depositing it on the table in front of Jefferson as he scrambles into the next seat over, pulling his legs into a criss cross.

Thomas hesitantly reaches out for the ball as he sits back down, rubbing one finger over it before picking it up and swinging it on a finger. “Thanks,” he whispers, beginning to calm down.

“Wait, what?” John Adams suddenly asks, oblivion ended momentarily. “Did Alex just hand over a _fidget_?”

“Thomas needed it,” Alex responds matter-of-factly, reaching into his bag for another. “And I’m getting another spinny chair before the next meeting.”

Madison grins. “Crowdfunded. I’ll pitch in ten bucks.” Jefferson’s flap of happiness confirms Alex’s suspicion, and the meeting finally begins.


	5. Chapter 5

Two weeks into the fall semester, James Madison begins to feel the strain.

  
Thomas and Alex are at the library, supposedly working on a project for a political science course they share. Alex brought an entire box of fidgets with him, however, so James isn’t sure that they’re accomplishing much.

In the meantime, James glances at his calendar. He’s got his first paper of the semester due next week, and he hasn’t even started it. On top of that, he can feel a cold coming on, and he doesn’t intend to try working through it like last year and end up with pneumonia.

He sits down at his desk and cracks his knuckles. _Three thousand words,_ he reminds himself. _Don’t aim for four._

Within the hour, he’s only a couple hundred words from being complete, but he needs a break. Before he can stand up, however, he notices that the window’s open a couple of inches, probably so Thomas could sleep. He walks over and tries to shut it, but it won’t budge. He tries again, finally pushing it down somewhat.

Before he can walk away, however, he notices a feather stuck in the screen. A bird must have gotten caught in it, but it’s not there any more. James tries to breathe, but it catches in his throat. _Was its wing broken as a result of this? Did a predator get it? Did it fall to the ground and get trampled under foot?_

He takes out his phone and texts Thomas as his breathing grows rapid.

 

SPINNY CHAIRS  
JM: you got a minute? little birdie says im close to a panic attack.  
TJ: comin home--eta 5 min, count to 300 and check for me if i havent arrived

 

James nods, curling up on his bed and rocking as he counts. He looks to make sure the door’s unlocked, checks it thrice more. He stacks the pillows carefully, punches them, repeats the process until he’s done it four times total. He cracks his knuckles with the utmost precision, becoming startled by the noise every time. By the time he’s reached 245, though, he can’t resist any more. He sits on the floor with his back to the bed and curls up as tight as he can. Frantically, he tries to keep counting, but he’s lost track and can’t bear to start over.

Luckily, Thomas chooses that moment to start talking as he opens the door. “Hey, man. I’m here. Alex is waiting outside until you say it’s alright. In the meantime, I have the gif.” James reaches out with both hands to take Thomas’s phone, displaying a growing and shrinking polygon. The pair sit side by side on the floor, matching their breath with the picture, until James finally shivers and leans against Thomas.

“Good now, thanks, but drained. Also, get the feather out of the window, please.”

“Ah, yes. The infamous trigger. I’ve got it.” Slowly, Thomas stands, moves to the window, opens it, and flicks the feather out of the screen.

“I’m sorry I had to stop you in the midst of a project, though,” Madison mutters, embarrassed.

Thomas Jefferson laughs, calling for Alex. “You’d be surprised, James. It’s already complete. I guess that’s what happens when we have two hyperfocusers in a team and a whole box of fidgets to assist.” Shocked, James looks up at the poster the younger man is holding.

“Final grounding assist: whose revolution did we cover? I told you this morning, but I think the poster should show it pretty well.”

James Madison breathes in, finally able to relax. “France.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you've enjoyed! Please review!
> 
> (Updates will be sporadic, as I have theatre, two AP classes, a Camp NaNo to participate in, and a musical to write in my tiny bit of free time. However, they WILL happen, as long as I remember that I posted this.)


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